


James Potter Swoons (in a Manly Fashion)

by BlueFallow



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Eventual James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, F/M, Fainting, Fluff, Hogwarts, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Marauders' Era, Minor Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, Sirius Black & James Potter Friendship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2019-04-16 00:27:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14152680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueFallow/pseuds/BlueFallow
Summary: James Potter gets dizzy spells - the gang (plus Lily, albeit reluctantly) help out. A series of fluffy one-shots heavy on the comfort.





	1. Chapter 1

Double potions was their last class on a Friday afternoon. Sighing gratefully, Lily Evans stirred her thick, blue mixture twice anti-clockwise and watched with satisfaction as the viscous liquid turned a deep, velvety purple.

“Your finished potion should be the colour of spring violets.” Professor Slughorn was announcing, standing up the gather together a tray of glass vials. “When it turns purple, please collect a sample and submit your work for marking. Don’t forget to label it, nice and clear!”

Lily summoned a vial from the front with a flick of her wand, pleased to see that she was the first to do so. Slughorn gave her a nod of approval and she smiled to herself as she bottled up her potion, writing “Inflammation Reducing Elixir – Lily Evans” on the front in neat cursive. She glanced at her watch, surprised to see there was still twenty minutes of the lesson left. She wondered if maybe Slughorn would let her leave early – there was a transfiguration essay they’d been set for the weekend that she’d love to get a start on before dinner…

The witch was dragged away from the mental list she was creating on the common properties of hedgehogs and hairbrushes when a foul smell filled the classroom, along with the sound of much complaint.

“Eww, what is that?” Mary grimaced, twisting around to stare at the back of the classroom.

Lily followed her friend’s gaze and was unsurprised to see wispy green smoke rising from a cauldron on the back row. James Potter was standing behind the offending pot, look at its contents with an expression of blank confusion.

Without meaning to, Lily caught Severus’ eye and saw the boy was smirking. 

“Not to worry, Mr Potter!” Slughorn called out kindly. “Miss Evans here has finished her potion – she can give you a hand.”

Severus’ smirk quickly evaporated, and Lily felt a similar expression fall from her face.

Grimacing at Mary, who gave her a sympathetic look, the girl gathered up her things and made her way reluctantly over to the back of the classroom. Thankfully, Sirius wasn’t in class today – the table at the back had an empty space where he usually sat. That meant she only had to endure one Marauder – though one was bad enough.

Dumping her books on Sirius side of the desk, Lily turned to face James, face firmly arranged in a scowl. She didn’t doubt he’d done this on purpose.

Strangely, James wasn’t wearing the gleeful expression she’s been expecting. In fact, he looked rather annoyed to be paired with her.

“Evans.” He greeted her evenly, one hand tightly grasping the desk.

She frowned at him in confusion for a fraction of a second, before dismissing his strange behaviour with a roll of her eyes. “Let get this over with.” Lily grumbled, and she leant over to look into his cauldron, wrinkling her nose at the smell.

The potion was, thankfully, the rich blue colour it was supposed to be in the penultimate stage of brewing; however, it was definitely not the right consistency. Rather than a thick liquid, Potter’s potion had congealed into a jellyfish clump at the bottom of the pot. And then there was the matter of the green smoke.

Lily glared at the mixture for a moment. “You added too many porcupine quills in the second stage.” She said finally, glancing up at the instructions on the board. “And you probably didn’t cut the lemon grass fine enough.”

Expecting a sassy remark, or at least an ungrateful grumble, the girl turned back to the boy and was frustrated to realise he was ignoring her completely, favouring a spot just over her shoulder, which he was focusing on with intent concentration.

The witch spun around, but the only thing behind her was, several metres away, a shelf of pickled grindylow parts. 

“For goodness sake –” she cut off as Potter’s eyes jumped suddenly back to her, clearly struggling to focus. His hand was gripping the desk so tightly his knuckles were turning white.

Lily frowned, inspecting the wizard more closely. His lips were drawn in a thin line, and she could see his shoulders shaking lightly. Was he angry?

“Potter?” She asked, confused, as he moved to grasp the desk with his other hand too. The boy’s eyes slid shut before fluttering determinedly open and staring intently at a dark smudge on the table top.

“Go away Evans.” He muttered, taking a careful breath.

The boy was clearly trying to sound dismissive, but he hadn’t quite managed it. There was something else in his voice overriding it, and it took Lily a moment to identify the tone – it was embarrassment.

“Potter, what’s going on?” She asked after a careful pause, taking a step closer. “Is it the fumes? Are you nauseous?” She had to admit the rotten egg smell was getting to her a bit as well. She didn’t think she’d be having her usual omelette tomorrow at breakfast.

James shook his head slowly, then seemed to regret it. His eyes screwed shut dipped towards the desk, legs shaking.

Lily reached out a quick hand to steady him without really thinking.

She looked up to call for Slughorn, but the Potter seemed to sense this and before she could say a word, his hand shot up from the desk to cover hers. “Don’t say anything.” The boy hissed. “Please.” He added, in a gentler tone.

Lily carefully removed her hand from under his and saw a complicated emotion flit across his features.

“Don’t worry,” She told him, slowly. She twisted the grab a stool from under the desk and dragged it over to Potter. “Here. Sit.” She told him, and he lowered himself hesitantly down.

“What’s going on?” The witch repeated, but the boy resolutely ignored her. “If you tell me, I won’t call Slughorn over.” She pressed.

He stared up at her, and for a moment Lily forgot it was Potter at all. He seemed so different without the usual jovial, mocking look in his eyes. He looks so vulnerable, she realised for second, before quickly pushing the thought from her mind. It was still Potter. Stupid, bloody Potter.

“Can you cast a privacy charm?” He asked her quietly, and Lily nodded, her curiosity piqued.

She lifted her wand and murmured a muffliato, a spell Severus had taught her, before adding a low notice-me-not. Satisfied, she pulled the other stool over and sat down beside him, struggling to school her features. She felt oddly concerned, and she had no idea why.

“Look just – if I tell you this, don’t be an arse about it, okay?”

Lily glared at him – she was never an arse – that was his job, thank you very much – and he nodded, seemingly satisfied.

James started scratching subconsciously at the varnish on the desk with a bitten-down fingernail. “When I was younger,” he began, staring down at the table. “Really young, like, one or two, I had dragon pox really bad.”

Lily frowned. She’d read about dragon pox. It was an unpleasant illness at the best of times – but it could be very dangerous for infants.

“What happened?” She prompted gently, and James glanced at her, surprised at the girl’s kind tone.

“Well, I survived, obviously.” He told her, a little obnoxiously, before pausing. “But um, I get these moments where I feel a bit…”

“Green?” She joked, and Potter let out a startled chuckle.

“Um yeah, sort of. Dizzy, I guess.”

Lily nodded. “And that’s what happened just now?” She asked.

The boy hummed in response. “Hit just after we started brewing. Got worse as the lesson went on.” He began picking at the varnish again.

Lily leaned back in her chair, thinking. She told him she wouldn’t tell Slughorn, and she couldn’t exactly go back on her word.

“Who here knows?” She enquired politely, and James blushed.

“Uh. Dumbledore. McGonagall. Pomfrey obviously, and Sirius.”

Lily blinked. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” He couldn’t meet her eye.

The witch felt a flash of guilt. She’d forced him to confide in her something that was clearly a secret, if not even Lupin and Pettigrew knew.

“I won’t tell Slughorn. Or, you know, anyone else.”

James winced.

Lily wondered if he was imagining Severus finding out and grimaced at the thought. The Slytherins would have a field day with this.

“I really won’t.”

Potter nodded, seeming to believe her. “Cheers.”

Glancing at her watch, Lily discovered there were only a few minutes of the lesson left. She looked about and realised most of the class were in the process of packing up.

With a flick of her wand, the girl summoned a flask and gathered a lump of Potter’s failed potion into it. She passed it to the boy and he scratched his last name onto the brown label with a shaky hand, leaving a large drop of ink at the base of the ‘P’.

“Are you feeling okay now? Will you need help getting back to the tower?”

The wizard ran a hand over his face, rubbing at his eyes.

“Look, I shouldn’t have told you…” He began. “I was panicking, I wasn’t thinking.”

The witch didn’t say anything, watching James closely as he grimaced. “Can you just go away?” He said at last.

Lily blinked, shocked at the sudden change in tone. Almost at once, the barrier that she hadn’t even noticed was beginning to slip down between them sprung back up.

“There’s no need to be rude.” She told him, crossly. “I’m trying to help.”

“Well don’t. I don’t need it.”

Lily frowned at him before reaching to gather her things with a huff. “Fine.” She said. “See you around, Potter.”

“Whatever.” He muttered, and Lily strutted off, angrily dragging down the mufliato and notice-me-not as she went.

The girl headed quickly up to the front of the classroom to hand in her potion sample. She had been planning on taking Potter’s with her to save him the journey, but his surly attitude made her change her mind.

“Ah, Miss Evans.” The Professor Slughorn took her vial, peering at the violet mixture with a pleased smile. “Perfect as always. I trust you were able to assist Mr Potter?”

Lily scowled. “Unfortunately not.” She told him, before hastily making her way over to Mary. On their way out of the classroom she saw Potter was still at his desk, tidying his ingredients away slowly. He didn’t look up as she passed, and she determinedly suppressed the uneasy feeling that fluttered in her chest.


	2. Chapter 2

James stumbled down the corridor towards Gryffindor tower, still dressed in his quidditch robes. He hadn’t even bothered to cast a quick cleaning charm after practice, he was so wiped. He knew he looked a mess, and not in the sexy windswept way – it was raining hard and he’d crash landed while attempting an admittedly foolish dive, so he was currently covered head to toe in sloppy mud. On the plus side, he was definitely leaving footprints (he turned back to check and yep – there were muddy steps trailing back behind him, and his robes were dripping a little extra puddle here and there) and that would drive Filch up the bend. James grinned wickedly at the thought, but before long the smile faltered as a wave of weakness hit.

He really shouldn’t have pushed himself so hard during practice, especially the day after a full moon. He was usually extra careful the day after a full moon because a night of running around the forest with zero sleep tended to tire him out a fair bit, and additionally if something did happen, he had to try and hide it from Sirius. Sirius was already worried about Moony – if he wasn’t skiving to be with Moony, which he did fairly regularly – and James didn’t want to add to his stress with another sick friend to look after.

Not that he was sick, or needed looking after. He just needed a bit of a nap. Luckily it was a Saturday, so he could easily sleep the rest of the day away; unluckily it was a Saturday, which meant Quidditch practice from 6am to noon. He’d changed into his practice robes the night before and at dawn had headed straight from the woods to the quidditch pitch, in time to catch the rest of the team starting their warm up laps.

The boy paused, breathing heavily and reaching out a hand to lean his weight against the wall. The corridor in front of him swam suddenly, rotating slightly to the left and blurring at the edges.

James blinked, chasing the black from the edges of his vision. He legs felt as though they were made of rubber. There was a prickling pressure on the back of his neck.

He was fine. He just needed to rest for a bit.

Realising he probably wouldn’t make it to the dormitory before the fullness of the episode hit, and feeling a bit stressed at the idea of passing out on the tower stairs, James resolved to sit down for a while and wait for the dizzy spell to finish.

As soon as they were given permission, his legs collapsed beneath him and he slumped against the wall, praying nobody would pass by and notice.

The boy closed his eyes and concentrated on taking deep, even breaths, pressing his palms against the cold marble floor to reassure himself there was still ground beneath him.

For a moment he felt a little better, but then his finger tips started the tingle, and his head started feeling increasingly heavy. He felt himself tip forward, as though his limbs were made of lead. He kicked himself for not thinking to bring his invisibility cloak, but the thought trailed off as his mind lost track, overwhelmed by an increasingly loud shrilling noise that seemed to have taken over the whole world.

 

To say that Lily Evans was horrified upon entering the entrance hall would be a gross understatement. There was a set of dark muddy footprints, quickly drying hard, leading all the way up the front stair case and, the Gryffindor prefect suspected, far beyond.

She growled under her breath and gestured to Mary and Alice to head into the great hall for lunch without her, determined to find the culprit and dock the appropriate number of house points first. The witch set off at a determined march, making fast progress through castle.

The hallways were very empty, Lily noted, due to it being lunch time. A lot of students slept through breakfast on a Saturday, so lunch was always very popular. The footprints appeared to be getting fresher, she realised with glee –

Turning a corner, the girl discovered their conclusion – a pile of muddy fabric shoved to the side of the corridor. Disappointed, and vaguely confused – had the muddy person stripped? – she made her way over the to lump, only to realise with horror that the lump had a shock of unmistakable black hair.

Lily swore, dropping to her knees beside James Potter. She cringed briefly at the thought of getting mud on her nice clean jeans before knocking the thought aside. James eyes were closed, and his face was ashen. Lily tapped his cheek a few times and called his name loudly but the boy didn’t respond.

Drawing back, Lily focused on the first happy memory she could bring to mind – receiving her prefect badge in the post that summer – and muttered a charm. A shot of silver burst from her wand and a glowing doe cantered up the hallway in the direction of the medical wing.

“Potter?” She asked again. “James?” She clutched his shoulder and gave him a gentle but firm shake.

The wizard’s eyes remained tightly shut, and his head lolled.

“Right.” She muttered to herself. “Right.”

Lily shifted his body so that he was lying down, before deftly arranging his limbs into the recovery position, turning him carefully over to his side.

Leaning down with one hand pressed against his chest, she listened to ensure his breathing was steady – it was – before tearing the neckline of his quidditch robes with a careful severing charm, tugging the fabric away from his windpipe.

Then she placed two fingers against his neck, relieved to find his pulse strong and steady. “You’re fine.” Lily murmured, more to comfort herself than him. As she moved back to wait for Madame Pomfrey to arrive, she found herself resting a shaking hand against his cheek and she couldn’t bring herself to remove it.

 

James came around painfully slowly. Emphasis on the painfully – his head was absolutely pounding.

The first sense he was consciously aware of, interestingly, was smell. It wasn’t very encouraging – all he could smell was stale rain, sweat, and mud. There was something beyond that, something his mind chased after briefly before giving it up as a lost cause.

Sooner after that rushed awareness of his body. He was freezing – he shivered – and weighed down by heavy, damp fabric. His head was cushioned on top of something – his arm? His arm had gone completely dead. He tried to twitch his fingers, not entirely sure whether they were obeying or not.

Merlin, he felt terrible.

He let out a low, pained groan, and was surprised to feel a pressure shift against his cheek.

It was the only warm thing – James wasn’t sure why he hadn’t noticed it sooner. Scared, as it shifted, that the warmth of the thing would move away, the boy turned head a fraction to press against it. The warm thing settled. It was a hand, he realised, as a thumb started to stroke back and forth comfortingly along his cheekbone.

A voice called something, very far away.

A short word – whoever it was, they were repeating a short word over and over again. They had such a lovely voice, like cold morning sunshine and the soft woosh of wind in your ears as you flew.

Flying. Quidditch. Significant for some reason.

His quidditch robes. He was wearing them. Muddy. Wet.

His breathing quickened as he struggled to open his eyes. Someone was going to see him. He was on the floor – he could feel it beneath him now, hard and cold – and he needed to get up or somebody was going to see him.

The hand cupping his face ceased its stroking. “James?” A lovely voice asked. “James, can you hear me?”

With effort his managed to tear his eyes open. Blinking wearily, the blurry form of what was unmistakably Lily Evans – red hair, pale skin, muddy blue jeans – shifted somewhat into focus. James tried to speak but his lips were numb, and all he managed was a quiet sound of alarm.

“Madame Pomfrey’s on her way, okay? I sent a patronus. Just breathe. You’re fine.”

The boy obeyed, inhaling deeply. The air felt thick in his lungs. Careful fingers tugged at the fabric around his neck, giving him more space draw breath.

“You passed out, but you’re fine now. Try not to panic.” Lily told him in a soothing voice.

He heard a quietly murmured charm, and the floor beneath him warmed up a bit. Evans cursed to herself quietly, to James’ mild amusement, before muttering a further string of spells. Soon his hair and robes were bone dry, and the comforting weight of a blanket warmed him.

“I’m sorry I didn’t think to do that sooner.” She apologised quietly. “I only ever learned muggle first aid.”

Dry and warm, James started to feel the hazy softness of sleep creep over him. His eyelids flickered shut and he felt his limbs, previously tense with cold and stress, slip into limpness.

“James?” The lovely voice asked, sounding worried. A hand landed on his side and she shook him lightly.

“S’okay.” He assured her, before the dark closed in once more. This time he didn’t mind.

 

James woke up several hours later to find a very angry Sirius gazing down at him. He looked about in confusion, surprised to find himself in the hospital wing.

“Did something happen at quidditch practice?” He asked, frowning, and Sirius scowled furiously.

“Next time you feel shit, how about you use that two way mirror to contact me – or do you enjoy faceplanting in corridors?”

James grew pale and groaned. “Oh merlin.” He reached up a hand to rub his face. “Did anybody see me?”

Sirius stared at him for a moment, perhaps considering lying to wind him up, before shrugging. “Only Evans. She called Pomfrey. Everyone else was at lunch, luckily for you.”

His friend didn’t look like he felt lucky at all. “Evans?” He asked in dread, trying to remember something, anything, from his time on the floor, but coming up blank aside from the vague memory of a dead arm and a warmth on his cheek.

“Yep. Evans.”

James groaned. “That’s so embarrassing.”

“I wouldn’t worry. She seemed quite concerned. She even sat with you for a bit.”

James’ eyebrows rose up into his head. “Really?” he asked happily.

“Well, sort of.” Sirius winked. “She hovered about when they first brought you in until Pomfrey said you were okay. She was here for at least, like, thirty seconds.”

James grinned. “See, she does like me.”

“Mate, she found you out cold in a corridor.”

“Nah, she likes me.”

Sirius rolled his eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

Lily wasn’t watching Potter. Okay, she was keeping a bit of an eye on him – the same way she kept a half-eye on Remus around the full moon, just to make sure he was okay (not that she needed to – Sirius was surprisingly attentive to the werewolf, considering how much of an idiot he was).

Because she wasn’t watching Potter, she couldn’t help but notice when he sat down heavily during transfiguration. She tried not to stare as Sirius put an arm around his shoulders and lent down to talk to him quietly.

The girl accidentally made eye contact with Remus, who was also sending furtive, concerned glances towards the pair. Looking to the front of the class, Lily discovered that Professor McGonagall, too, appeared to be aware of the situation – she hadn’t made any sharp remarks about the pause in their spell work, and was clearly keeping a half-eye on James, though she was being remarkably subtle about it. No one else in the room appeared to have noticed.

Satisfied, Lily turned back to her textbook, peering closely at the illustrated wand movement once more.

When Lily ran upstairs during lunch break to fetch her charms essay she’d been so busy editing last night, she’d forgotten to pack, the girl was surprised to find the common room wasn’t empty. Stretched out on the sofa by the fire was James Potter, clearly asleep; Sirius Black was sitting at his feet, writing furiously on a sheet of parchment.

Lily ran to her dorm to collect her homework, stuffing it in her bag on the way back down the stairs – but before leaving she paused.

She glanced down at Potter. He looked a bit clammy, but otherwise okay. Not the shocking pale he had been that day in the corridor.

Sirius caught her stare and raised his eyebrows.

Lily blushed. “Is he alright?” She asked quietly, trying not to sound like she cared.

The boy grin devilishly, probably not fooled. Lily schooled herself, preparing for a sassy remark, but instead Sirius nodded quickly and whispered. “Yeah, he’ll be fine.”

Nodding abruptly, Lily turned and left, her cheeks still warm. She wondered how often Sirius had to deal with moments like this – and how she’d never noticed before.

Casting her mind back, she recalled an incident in their third year when Sirius had barrelled down the transfiguration hallway carrying Potter bridal style and wailing the wedding march at the top of his lungs. She had been satisfied to see McGonagall call them sternly into her classroom; though Sirius had ceased his awful vocalising, he hadn’t but James down, carrying him right through the doorway which was firmly shut behind them. From what she remembered, McGonagall had kept them for a long telling off; had possibly given them immediate detention (they’d missed dinner) – though oddly, Gryffindor hadn’t lost any house points.

There was another time, she remembered suddenly, in their second year, when James had fallen suddenly forward onto his desk during a theory lesson in defence. Moments later Black had thrown a stinkbomb into the middle of the classroom, ensuring chaos. At the time she thought he’d just been laughing.

Of course, they hadn’t been hiding Potter’s illness with every prank; the vast majority of the time the pair was just being stupid. But, Lily conceded, perhaps Black wasn’t a total idiotic moron. He had, after all, been looking out for James and Remus all this time and she had to admit, for a teenage boy, he was doing pretty well.


	4. Chapter 4

When Sirius Black first met James Potter, he didn’t know how to touch.

It wasn’t that he didn’t know, exactly, in that he understood the concept – he just couldn’t really… do it. He couldn’t reach out to pat someone’s arm to get their attention without feeling exceptionally awkward, and he froze every time a hand fell on his shoulder. It wasn’t that he disliked touch in itself; he just didn’t have much experience with it. The motions were unfamiliar. He never knew how to respond. And his hesitation and uncertainty regarding affectionate demonstrations was ruining the cool and casual reputation he was well on the way to building for himself - so Sirius Black, during his first few weeks at Hogwarts, steadfastly avoided physical contact.

That was until the first time he found James pale and shaking on the dormitory floor.

His mate was on his knees, clearly having collapsed, and the only thing stopping him from face planting straight into the carpet was one trembling arm, bent crookedly at the elbow. The other hand scraped at his face furiously, trying to wipe away the tears streaming down his white cheeks.

Sirius had stood there for a moment, staring, awkward, before making a decision. 

He walked determinedly forward, crouched beside his friend, and placed a hesitant arm around his shoulders.

James had fallen against him, shuddering, and for the first time in his life Sirius held somebody.

He didn’t know what it was like to be held. He didn’t know if he was doing it right. But he stayed with James in that awkward position, straining under his weight, arm entirely dead, until the tears ceased and James was taking deep, steady breaths. And then he patted his back, and the back of his hand, just like they did in story books, until his mate felt well enough to explain what was going on.

The boy explained how he got sick sometimes, and how this was the first time without his parents there to look after him, and Sirius felt so, so proud because he had looked after James and he had comforted him and it had worked and looking after people felt great.

So the next time James fell down, Sirius was ready with a waiting arm, and a hand in position to awkwardly pat.

And over time, the ice that filled the Black heir’s veins at the thought of physical contact thawed, and small, friendly touches shuffled their way in, followed by hugs even when they were both well and happy. Soon even Remus, though himself hesitant, couldn’t avoid Sirius’ warm, goofy embraces.

By fifth year, the wizard found himself stretched out on the sofa by the fire in the common room, head nestled on Remus lap as one of his boyfriend’s beautiful hands stroked its way through his hair. Sirius had the boy’s other hand firmly in his grasp and was playing with the scarred fingers lightly. Sometimes the strain of caring for his fragile friends was a lot to carry. But the Black heir would always bear it gladly, because he would never forget how looking after them had taught him everything his parents hadn’t.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello :) I hope you enjoyed reading my first attempt at fanfiction. I have a couple more one-shots planned and I'm open to suggestions for scenarios, if there's anything you'd like to see happen :)


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